


Next Level

by ghostystarr



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Epilogue, M/M, Moving In Together, Post-Episode 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:36:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8947975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostystarr/pseuds/ghostystarr
Summary: In which Yuuri and Victor settle into their new life in St. Petersburg. podfic by lunchee





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Следующий этап](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9453062) by [pranks25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pranks25/pseuds/pranks25)



Katsuki Yuuri lived in a dream – a frighteningly real dream.  He kept expecting to wake up at any moment and find himself back in Hasetsu with an empty banquet room and quiet springs.  When the boxes started to arrive, it felt like someone pinching him.

Yuuri was in St. Petersburg, Russia and he was unpacking his clothes in Victor Nikiforov’s closet.

He gave himself a real pinch for good measure.

“Yuuri,” Victor’s voice lifted from the living room, “where should I put the rest of these boxes?”

“Ah,” Yuuri raised his head, tearing his eyes away from Victor’s closet full of Burberry coats and Kiton suits, “you can set them anywhere.  I’ll get to them.  Eventually,” he added under his breath and frowned at the open suitcase in front of him and the neatly folded clothes nestled inside.

Reality checks always hit Yuuri hard, like flubbing a jump and landing on the ice hard and fast.  He felt a twinge of anxiety balling up inside of him as his eyes flashed from Victor’s closet to his suitcase and back again.

“Need help?” Victor asked, leaning around the bedroom door with a happy little smile, which grew when he saw Yuuri by the large walk-in closet with a serious look.  “I cleared the bottom two drawers of the dresser for you, too.  Behind you.”  Yuuri grunted, biting his lip, and Victor’s smile turned soft.  “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, just that I’m about to hang the button-down I bought in high school next to Victor Nikiforov’s suits.”

Victor laughed, light and airy, before crossing the room in three long strides, plucking an empty hanger from the rod, and reaching into Yuuri’s suitcase like it was nothing.  He lifted up a blue button-down shirt, slipped it onto the hanger, and dangled it in front of Yuuri’s hand.  “Care to do the honors?”

Yuuri sucked in a breath.  “Um.”

“Something wrong?”  Victor frowned.  “Is my closet not big enough?”

“No, the closet is fine.  It’s just…” Yuuri flushed.  “As soon as I hang up that shirt, that’ll be the first thing I unpacked.  And then we officially live together.”

Victor tilted his head in confusion.  “Yuuri, we lived together in Hasetsu for a year.”

“That was different.  _This_ is different.”

“Different… good?”

Yuuri broke into a smile and took the hanger.  “It’s good,” he assured him.  “Just a lot.  I guess I just haven’t fully adjusted to the fact that you’re… well, that you and I are…”

“In love?  Engaged?  Moving in together?  Going to compete on the same ice again?”

“All of the above,” Yuuri muttered.

Victor hummed, placing a hand on his hip.  His silver hair fell in front of his eyes as he regarded Yuuri with a long look.  “If it helps, I have a surprise for you later, but only when you finish unpacking.”

“Your definition of a surprise is usually a lot grander than most people’s,” Yuuri said.  “Should I be worried?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t get rid of the boxes crowding the living room,” Victor teased.  “So…”

“Right.” Yuuri turned around and, with a totally steady and not shaky hand, hung his blue button-down he wore at graduation across from Victor’s sweaters.

“There,” Victor sang, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Yuuri turned, a wry smile on his face.  “Guess not.”

“Good, because you might be moving in with Victor Nikiforov, but _I’m_ moving in with Katsuki Yuuri.” He reached forward to tangle their right hands together, rings clinking lightly, and Yuuri felt warmth fill him right to the toes despite the harsh Russian winter frosting up the windows.  “How did I get so lucky, I wonder?”

Yuuri chuckled, squeezing Victor’s hand and shaking his head.  “Thank you,” he said for the thousandth time since Barcelona only a few short weeks ago.

Victor leaned forward until their foreheads touched.  “Thank _you,”_ he whispered back in a tone that Yuuri was beginning to recognize meant he was about to be kissed very soon.  Yuuri lifted his chin, breathing in slowly when Victor’s free hand came to cup his cheek, and his eyes slid closed when Victor made to finish the distance and welcome him home with a kiss for the first time.

Just before their lips touched, they were interrupted by a loud crash emanating from the kitchen.  Victor backed away at once, blinking rapidly then face furrowing in frustration.  “Makkachin!” he called.  “You better not be on that counter!  Leave the donuts alone!”  He left Yuuri, racing down the hall in a mad dash to save their makeshift breakfast.  “We don’t want a repeat of the steamed buns incident, now, do we?”

Yuuri blew out a sigh.  The number of kisses he’d shared with Victor was still depressingly small, but he figured that would be changing now that Victor had finally gotten his wish and they would be sharing a bed.  He smiled as he heard Victor shoo Makkachin off of the kitchen counter and set to work on unpacking his clothes.

.

When he finished, after taking a minute to admire the fullness of Victor’s – _their_ closet, he padded into the living room to find Victor making room for Yuuri’s books on the shelves.  “You sure read a lot, Yuuri,” he teased as he opened up another box full of books, some in English and most in Japanese.

Yuuri hummed noncommittally and patted Makkachin when he approached.  “There’d be more room for my books if you didn’t drink so much,” he shot back, eyeing the two shelves Victor had dedicated to a rather impressive array of liquors.

“I entertain a lot,” the Russian defended.  “Which reminds me, we should run to the grocery store later.  I lived the disappointing life of a bachelor before going to Hasetsu so the kitchen could use some love and care.”

“Do you even have plates?” Yuuri asked, squinting at the bare open cupboards.

“Might still have some plastic ones somewhere.”

Yuuri huffed, looking through the drawers and cabinets in dismay.  “Things are definitely going to change around here.”

Victor, without missing a beat, said, “Yes, that’s what I’m hoping for.”

They shared a smile and then set to work on completing their home together.

It was nearly evening by the time the apartment looked to be in some semblance of order, and Victor quite cheerily declared that he was tired and done for the day.  He sat down on the couch with a dramatic yawn, patting the cushion beside him invitingly, and Yuuri obliged.  Both of them admired the shelves, mixed with the perfect balance of them.  It still didn’t quite feel like home, but Yuuri liked it.  Home to him would always be his mother’s cooking and his father exploiting his skating career for extra profits, but as Victor wrapped an arm around him and pressed his cold nose into his neck, he figured his definition of home could be expanded to dogs hopping on counters and paper plates.

“I was sitting right here when I watched your video,” Victor said softly.  “After last year’s banquet, I couldn’t get you out of my head, but it was like you disappeared.  Like Cinderalla after midnight – you swept my off my feet and then ran off.  I stalked social media for days, did you know that?  I was hoping you had a twitter or an Instagram or _something._   That sounds kind of strange, doesn’t it?” Yuuri said nothing; it was rare that Victor talked about himself or about anything before he came to Hasetsu last spring.  “Someone sent me the video – Chris, maybe – of you skating my program.  I was sitting _right here_ when I knew I had to find you again.”  Their eyes met.  “And now you’re sitting here.”

Yuuri’s heart might have stopped for just a moment, but that fell second to the way it jumped when Victor tackled him into a tight hug and fell over on the couch.  “I’m so happy!” Victor sang while Yuuri wiggled in his hold.

“Can’t breathe,” Yuuri gasped, freeing himself from Victor’s arms and then gave himself a minute to just appreciate the view – Victor so casual and happy beneath him.  His heart rattled noisily in his chest and he knew he had to calm himself.  He didn’t know enough Russian to go to the hospital on his first night.  “Didn’t you say something about a surprise?”

Victor laughed anxiously.  “Did I say that?”

“You forgot again, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” he chirped, sitting up.  “What time is it?”

“A little after four, maybe.  Why?”

Victor was on his feet in a second, hastily pulling Yuuri up as well.  “Come on!  Food first, surprise later!”

Yuuri sighed tiredly – he really would rather just enjoy the night in their new home – but when Victor got determined there was no stopping him.  The silver medal hanging next to five golden ones was proof of that.  “I guess we’re going shopping then.”

.

Yuuri’s Russian was basic at best, but he had a natural affinity for languages.  Victor chatted away on his phone, voice sounding completely different when it was used in its native tongue, and Yuuri caught onto the gist of a conversation that he was rather sure he wasn’t supposed to know about.

“Who’s coming over?” Yuuri asked as soon as Victor hung up, fixing his grip on the many bags full of food.  Victor had tossed a few frozen pizzas and premade dinners into their cart and was ready to leave.  He had seemed entirely enchanted when Yuuri started throwing in fresh produce with a plan for each meal for the rest of the week.

Victor glanced at him with a pout.  “You’re learning Russian too quickly,” he scolded.  “Eavesdropping is rude.”

“It’s not eavesdropping when you have the conversation right in front of me,” Yuuri mumbled and hid his face in his scarf.  He had been in Russia during the winter before, but it was going to take him a very long time to get used to it.

Victor hummed, unconvinced, before he chose a reply.  “I may have invited a few people over tonight."

Yuuri raised an eyebrow but said nothing.  He followed Victor home, still unused to the layout of the city, and decidedly quite quickly that he had made the right choice, following Victor to St. Petersburg, to another season of competition, to a bright future full of many more shopping trips and surprises.

A few people apparently meant the entire Russian skating team.

They surprised Yuuri as he walked in the door, most of them with happy faces, except for one who sulked in the corner next to Makkachin.  Yuuri greeted them all politely, though he felt as though the only two things he had in common with these people was their love for ice skating and for Victor.  They were there because Victor asked them to be, nothing more, but Yuuri appreciated their effort nonetheless.  Victor left his side to talk to Yakov, who was already lecturing him about missed practices.

Yuuri was already feeling drained by the time someone gave him a light punch on the arm.  “Don’t think I’m going to hold anything back just because I’ve won one gold medal, katsudon,” Yuri Plisetsky said.  “I’ll kick your ass next season, too.”

Yuuri spun around to blink at the Russian skater and then, inexplicably, laughed.  “Thank you, Yurio,” he said heartily.  “I’m looking forward to it.”

Yurio smirked then jerked a thumb towards the kitchen.  “I made too many pirozhki so I brought them with me.  Eat some before that jerk Victor does.”

“Ah, that sounds great.  Is it your grandfather’s recipe again?”

“Katsudon pirozhki,” Yurio corrected proudly.  “I’m even better than you at cooking.  How’s that feel?”

“Yurio, you aren’t trying to pick a fight, are you?” Mila teased, slinking an arm around Yurio’s neck.  She gave Yuuri a wink.  “He worked really hard on those pirozhki for you, Yuuri.  He was super excited for you to try them.”

Yurio blushed.  “Sh-shut up, you hag!  I was not!”

Yuuri backed away from the bickering, sneaking over to Victor’s side again as he talked with Georgi about something that his Russian skills weren’t able to translate.  He felt his stomach swoop when Victor, without breaking conversation, wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s waist and pulled him closer.

“O-oh, right, so how are you finding Russia, Yuuri?” Georgi asked after Victor gave him an expectant look.

Yuuri talked with them for a bit, answering questions about Japan and then about America.  He knew what Victor was doing, trying to integrate Yuuri into his life and make him feel comfortable with the other skaters, so he carried on boring conversations and pretended not to notice Victor giving them conversation instructions in Russian.

“So was this my surprise?” he asked Victor later as he opened up another bottle of wine.  “Talking to the Russian skaters?”

“No,” Victor answered.  “Well, it was a part of it, but I have something else for you.”

Yuuri glanced over his shoulder, making sure young ears were out of shot before leaning in close and whispering, “Should I look forward to it?”

Victor just responded by handing him a glass of wine with a wink before rejoining the party.  Yuuri took a deep breath, took an even deeper sip, and followed.

.

The Russian skaters left some time later in high spirits, all promising to come by again soon and looking forward to practicing with Yuuri in the coming days.  Yurio promised to flaunt more pirozhki later, and Yuuri had a feeling that it was all part of a devious plot to get him out of shape before competition again.

As soon as they were gone, Victor shut the door and heaved a sigh.  “Finally,” he said, “I didn’t think they would stay that long, but they seem pretty taken with you.  I’m so relieved.”

“Relieved?”

Victor hummed an affirmative.  “You’re part of the team now, whether they like it or not.  But I’d prefer it if they liked it.  I don’t have much of a family, and I’ve spent most of my time with Yakov and the other skaters so…” Victor’s smile turned a bit sad, and Yuuri wondered if it was possible to fall in love with the same person several times a day.

“Victor,” he began, but wasn’t sure what to say.  He was touched, honored even.  Victor had welcomed him into his life, his home, and now his family.  The ring around his finger suddenly felt very heavy, but also warm.  He felt so, so warm.  “Thank you.”

Victor shook his head.  “You showed me your life and love, Yuuri.  This time around, I’m going to show you mine.”

Yuuri tangled their fingers together.  “I can’t wait.”

They smiled at each other, lost in the little world they spun for themselves as they were wont to do, before Victor remembered something and pulled away.  “Oh!  I almost forgot!  I ordered something for us.”

“What is it?” Yuuri peered over as Victor pulled out a long rolled-up paper from the coat closet.

“Here,” Victor handed it to him, “unroll it.”

It was a poster.  It was a poster of himself and Victor in their matching blue and purple costumes, mid-spin and facing each other, hands outstretched and rings glinting obviously in the light.  It must have been taken in Barcelona, but he hardly recognized it – himself.  He looked like what he was, a professional skater, and he felt his face heat up when he saw how much love was in his eyes, how tenderly he reached for Victor.  He could almost hear the music when he looked at how their fingers just met, and his entire body brimmed with excitement.  He was going to go to the Grand Prix Final again.  And maybe again.  And again.  As many times as it took until he had a gold medal for Victor to kiss.

Victor came up beside him, hands rubbing Yuuri’s arms, and rested his chin on the top of Yuuri’s head.  “They started printing these in America, apparently,” he said.  “I had to get one.”

“Oh,” was all Yuuri said, blinking back sudden emotion.

“What?  Do you not like it?”

Yuuri shook his head.  “That’s not… I like it a lot.”

“Having another reality check?”

“I just can’t believe it,” Yuuri admitted, fingers grazing the poster like he was afraid it would disappear.  He spent a good chunk of his childhood with Victor on his wall, admiring him like the obsessed fan he was, imagining getting the chance to just be on the same ice as him.  He had seen himself on posters before, but it was different now.  His dreams had come true, in their own strange ways, but they had grown into something even more amazing than he could have imagined.

His heart felt like it was on fire.

“I’m gonna hang it up in our room,” Victor was saying excitedly.  “Right above the bed.  I’ll get to start each morning with a reminder of the greatest gold I’ve ever won.”

“You didn’t compete last year,” Yuuri replied without thinking until Victor’s finger tapped Yuuri’s ring and his face went red.  “Oh.”

Victor gave him another wink.  “I’m gonna go hang this up now.  Are you going to join me?”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Yuuri promised.  “I promised Phichit I’d Skype him once I’m all moved in.”

“Okay.” Victor kissed him swiftly, without any warning whatsoever, and Yuuri was so tempted to just call Phichit in the morning, keep Victor close to him like this for just a minute longer, but then Victor was gone and walking down the hall with a hum and a spring in his step.

It took a few moments for Yuuri’s head to stop spinning and another couple for him to find his phone.  He was just about to log into Skype when he heard Victor call out again.

“Yuuri,” Victor’s voice was flat and annoyed.  Yuuri turned, jumping when he saw Victor standing with a stiff smile frozen on his cheery face and holding up something blue.  Yuuri recognized what it was and froze as well.

Victor tilted his head, smiling but looking downright distraught. _“What is this hideous tie doing in our home?”_

.

The next morning, when their alarm went off at the unholy hour of six o’clock, Katsuki Yuuri woke up sandwiched between Victor Nikiforov and Makkachin, blinking at the blurry image of them skating together, and about to start the first day of his second season with Victor at his side.

He smiled and pinched himself again.

Katsuki Yuuri lived in a dream – one that he wouldn’t trade for all the gold medals in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted my first fic for this fandom to be something nice but... this works, too. ;v;
> 
> How's everyone feeling about the finale? Personally, I loved it, but now I won't be able to rest properly until we get an official statement about a season two. "See you next level" WHAT DOES THAT MEAN KUBO??
> 
> tumblr; [ghostystarr](http://ghostystarr.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Next level](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9331976) by [read by lunchee (lunchee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchee/pseuds/read%20by%20lunchee)




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